Millionaire Under The Mistletoe: The Playboy's Mistress / Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed / The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

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СКАЧАТЬ the rough surface. ‘It’s the only table too, for that matter.’

      Darcy gathered the drifting threads of her wits—she hadn’t come here to talk furniture. ‘I only came to look at you,’ she gritted, wondering why she had ever cared if he expired in his sleep.

      ‘Not touch…?’ he muttered.

      ‘Will you stop interrupting me?’

      ‘Sorry,’ he responded meekly.

      Meek, him…? That was the best joke she’d heard in ages.

      ‘I shouldn’t have let you spend the night alone just because you irritated me.’

      Now that she had his complete attention, Darcy wasn’t sure that was what she wanted… She didn’t trust that innocent expression in those green eyes either.

      He rapidly proved her distrust was well-placed!

      ‘So you decided to spend the night with me after all, Darcy. I don’t know what to say…’

      Her jaw locked tight as she tried to act as if his wolfish grin didn’t do anything to her at all.

      ‘I’m sure you’ll manage to come up with something suitably smutty,’ she predicted acidly, rubbing her sweaty palms against her jeans.

      His low chuckle was not only genuinely amused, it was also deeply, devastatingly sexy.

      ‘The doctor said you needed to be carefully observed. I just thought I’d pop round and see if you were all right.’

      ‘You thought you’d pop round at,’ he glanced down at the slim-banded wristwatch on his wrist, ‘three a.m.,’ he read incredulously.

      ‘I didn’t know if you could cope, with your ribs and the shoulder…’ She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘If you must know,’ she said, gathering up the flask and blanket and thrusting them out to him, ‘I was worried about you.’

      Reece looked from her angry, flushed face to the offerings in her hand and back again. ‘I’m touched.’

      ‘There’s no need,’ she said with dignity, ‘to be sarcastic.’

      ‘I’m not.’

      Darcy tapped a pearly fingertip nervously against a white tooth and eyed him with an exasperated frown. ‘It’s perfectly simple,’ she began to explain patiently. ‘I was lying there, listening to the wind, thinking about you…’

      ‘Snap.’

      It took two seconds’ exposure to his wickedly explicit eyes to extinguish the innocent look of enquiry on her face. ‘I wasn’t doing that sort of thinking,’ she gasped, horrified.

      ‘What sort of thinking would that be, Darcy…?’

      ‘If you’d got ill in the night nobody would have known. I would have felt responsible.’

      ‘You’ve got a thing about responsibility, haven’t you, Darcy?’ he mused softly. ‘Don’t you ever get the urge to do something irresponsible?’ The humour faded abruptly from his eyes.

      Darcy swallowed, and waited for the worst of the spasms in her belly to pass. It must be the candles, she reasoned desperately. ‘No, never.’ Her stern denial emerged as a hollow whisper.

      Her fingers, still curled around the blanket and Thermos, trembled. It didn’t occur to her to release her grip on them as he pulled them—and her—slowly towards him. Finally he removed them from her weak grasp and placed them on the floor. His eyes never left hers all the time.

      An image of the livid bruising she’d seen on his body came into her head, but her imagination didn’t limit itself to damage; it conjured up some impressive muscles, smooth olive-toned flesh and crisp body hair too. She ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips to lubricate them and gave her head a tiny shake, but neither act totally dispelled the disturbing image.

      ‘Did I hurt you?’ she asked hoarsely. She knew she hadn’t been a submissive victim.

      He touched the side of her face softly and sent an illicit little shiver through the tense body. Darcy couldn’t afford the time to worry if the tremor had been transmitted through his fingertips—it was taking all her energy convincing her knees they didn’t want to fold under her. To make matters infinitely worse, the debilitating weakness wasn’t just affecting her limbs…at best, her brain was functioning on a very basic, fuzzy level.

      ‘Do you want to?’ Finger on the angle of her jaw, he tilted her face up to his.

      Darcy shook her head—she didn’t want to think about what she’d like to do to him; it wasn’t decent. His face was swimming in and out of focus as she stared back at him.

      ‘I don’t like hurting people. Do you…?’

      Reece didn’t reply; he simply took her by the shoulders and drew her unresisting body towards him, parting his thighs to let her rest within their confining circle.

      ‘Are you quite sure that concern for my health was the only reason you came here, Darcy…?’

      She had to do something to throw cold water on the escalating intimacy and danger of a situation that was fast getting out of hand.

      ‘What other reason could there be?’

      Underneath the faint antiseptic hospital scent and a distinctive male fragrance she could smell him—not just his soap or cologne, but him! Panic was just a heartbeat away—or was it capitulation she could sense…?

      ‘This one…’ His intention was written clear on his dark, impassioned features.

      Desperation and panic flared in her wide eyes just before they reflexly closed. The uncoordinated flailing movements of her hands brought them in contact with the iron-hard thighs pressed either side of her hips; she froze and her fingers spasmed, relaxed, then tentatively spread out over the hard-muscled expanse.

      ‘That’s good,’ he approved.

      Darcy gave a sigh; it was. She felt his breath as it moved over her cheek, felt it tease the quivering line of her trembling lips in the moment before his lips purposefully parted hers. The sensual, silken, smooth stab of his tongue melted her last resistance.

      Darcy gave a lost little cry and sank deeper into the seductive velvet blackness inside her head. The explosive force of his hunger was something she’d never encountered before. Almost more shocking was the equally unexpected raw response that uncoiled within her. She gave herself up totally to the seductive exploration, only stopping when she could no longer breathe.

      They drew apart, but not very far. Her forehead was resting against his, her fingers were twisted in the glossy strands of his dark hair.

      ‘I forgive you totally for waking me up.’

      And, given he kissed like an angel, she was prepared to forgive him for sounding so smug. He knew all the moves all right; even now Darcy didn’t want to admit even to herself that it wasn’t simple slick technique that had made her respond to him that way.

      ‘Ever СКАЧАТЬ